


Grandma plays the numbers

by snuffymcsnuff



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffymcsnuff/pseuds/snuffymcsnuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac is a young bab and the survivor is a flustered old woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grandma plays the numbers

”Twenty-two...”

The number is muttered almost inaudibly to no one but herself, but in the dead airwaves of the commonwealth it quickly becomes a shared message.

Maccready looks predictably annoyed.

“So what?” He says to no one in particular as well, lighting up a cigarette and leaning back in his dilapidated chair. Their shared bedroll lies in the corner and guilt creeps up her neck at the sight of it in her peripheral vision.

“If I had known- I’m just. It’s just so- … young.”

There is a beat before the mercenary replies, all the time it takes for a particularly deep drag to be absorbed into his lungs before he gives her a look that heavily implies she can’t be serious.

“You what? You’d have left me alone, that it? Because that is some bullsh- bunk, and you know it.” 

Nora shakes her head, eyes shut against what feels like an oncoming bout of migraine. Truly the last thing a person needs to deal with in the wasteland. Not since Shaun had just been born… 

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Maccready flicks the butt to the floor, nimble fingers on his other hand working their way into the lining of his worn duster. She, in turn, pretends not to feel the cold seeping into her own bones. A pointless gesture as it turns out. Her hands tremble as they pull apart her rifle, the casual act becoming less so by the minute.

“Well then, please. Enlighten me, oh wise old woman.” There is not a trace of disdain in the statement, even though his mouth stays a thin line, his eyes undisturbed pools of blue.

“Mac…” 

“No, seriously. Listen. That stuff, it means nothing to me, okay? I wouldn’t even be here if something like that mattered.” 

There’s that damned soft reassuring glint in his eyes, and Nora feels the resolve that was brittle to begin with waiver. It’s not like she is trying to make him out to be a child. They both know that in this world, he is her senior. Mayor at twelve, father and husband at what must have been less than twenty… and surviving day to day in the wasteland would age anybody well beyond their years. 

“Not even my age?” She tries feebly, which gains her a slight quirk of his lips.

“I don’t know many 240 year olds who can snipe the head off of a super mutant at a hundred yards and look good doing it.”

The scope clicks back into place and Nora places the rifle back on the table. The movement is soft, the tremble long gone. Maccready's hand leaves the comfort of his duster, replacing it with the warmth of her hand, fingers falling into place between each other. The wedding band nudges his skin gently, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

"I'm sorry. Just felt like a bit of a cradle robber for a moment there."

For a second, Mac looks terribly confused, horrified even. "A cra- does that mean what I think it does?" 

Nora snorts. "No, I'm- sorry, that was really awful. A cradle robber is someone who, uh... you know what, nevermind."

He knocks their intertwined hands against her shoulder, looking too much like a pouting kid for her liking. "Hey, tell me already."

Suddenly the bedroll in the corner looks less like a trap. "Maybe later."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a writer, but fo4 makes me want to write several novels


End file.
